


The Cave & The Crow

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Crow (1994), Thor (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He smirked, albeit with little conviction as the crow squawked thrice behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cave & The Crow

Broken. Not delicately spider-webbed with intricate cracks, but busted and shattered, pieces strewn across the ground with little care.

Through those cracks - those gaping crevices in his foundations - seeped marrow hardening anger and splintering sorrow. If one wasn't careful, one could get snagged on a splinter and fall victim to the former.

But above all, pouring through in a blinding white light, further illuminating every crack and fissure was a heart breaking madness. It gnawed at him, clinging to his body - to his very soul - like a disease, and causing as much damage.

He studied him carefully, eyes dark against his painted white face. Dark with decades of understanding that he hadn't experienced. Dark with knowing and empathy and disgust for the shell of a god that hung before him.

If you could peel back the dark eyes and ghostly painted face; the layers of skin and muscle and bone; if you could prod in the pulsating organ within his skull, you would find that he wasn't entirely sure why he was here- well, wasn't before witnessing the draining descent in to madness that was the being before him.

Vengeance was his calling card, and those who had wronged him were his business. The bird was his guide, his friend, his confidante. With swooping black wings it would lead him to where he needed to be; would show him how to right the wrongs of so many. It knew when and where he needed to be in order to allow his soul peace in the afterlife; in order to pt his conscious at rest. So, as to why he ended up at the mouth of a rather secluded cave was somewhat of an unknown, but an accepted fact, because the bird had directed him here.

He reached a hand out, fingers spreading as he dragged them along the wall of the cavern, creating lines in the mold and water that clung mercilessly to the rock. His eyes carefully took in the surroundings as his tongue ran lightly along the corner of his lips in contemplation.

The only light provided was the evening sun, hues of deep orange-reds and yellows pooling around the entrance to the cave, illuminating obscure ridges and stalactites; it glistened against the damp cavern walls and rippled in the stagnant pools that riddled the ground, curling itself dramatically around the slight corner that led to the shadow of a beast of a man against the furthest back wall, though it failed to reach as far.

The sun could not, however, cast away the smell as it could the shadows. Eric scrunched his painted nose, his lips tightening and pulling back in a grimace the further he introduced himself in to the cave. It was a rotting smell much akin to a festering wound or a battlefield trench. It made his stomach uneasy, and he placed a palm flat against it, holding the other arm outstretched before him -bent slightly about the elbow as if to brace himself as he further invaded the thickening darkness.

The creature before was a huddled blue ( _blue couldn't be right..._ ) mass of desolation and despair -pathetic. And that's saying a lot, because he'd dealt with Top Dollar and Funboy and all the likes. He could feel his lips pull back enough to reveal his teeth, but was quick to conceal the face, as though someone might have seen it, and further approached the creature.

He kneeled down before the twisted, broken fragment of what once was, feeling the dampness of the cavern floor soaking through the cloth of his pants. His eyes scanned the figure with great caution- carefully taking in the intricate, scar-like patterns weaved over the other's flesh; eyeing the disheveled, dirty hair that is curled up around his neck; examining the body language emitted from the other -limp wrists, a bowed head that lead in to an extremely curved spine, his chest fighting to reach where his knees were on the ground, with low, shallow breaths. He reached a hand out, setting it beneath the other's chin, lifting his gaze.

Dull, deep crimson eyes lulled lazily to him, struggling, it seemed, to keep eye contact with him. The other flinched at the touch, but leaned in to it, empathically sending a flood of memories and feelings that spanned thousands and thousands of years longer than Eric had ever hoped to come in to contact with. Of pain and elation; sorrow, regret, struggle; an overwhelming fullness and a sharp, sudden emptiness all at once. Gritting his teeth, Eric reeled back, removing his hand from the other's face, only to be greeted with hollow, raspy laughter. The other's head dipped lightly to the side, but his crimson hues stayed trained on Eric, unreadable upon the mask of apathy. Eric knew better.

The crimson irises flitted upwards, gazing absently towards the squawking sound that echoed from the cavern's walls. Eric watched him as he searched momentarily for the bird, but his own eyes stayed focused on the other. It was a warning. He was running out of time. Out of time to be here. Out of time to help him.

Sometimes the rest of your own soul is dependent on the rest of others.

"Son of Laufey,"Eric breathed coolly, almost a question as it passed through his lips. A mixture of emotions -pain, anger, regret- flashed across the others -across Loki's- features. Eyes the color of dried blood met his own, to which he smirked a bit, leaning towards the creature, throwing any malice that Loki might have held towards him to the side as though it were no more than a wadded piece of paper. He reached up in a quick motion, placing his hands around the other's head -thumbs resting with a gentle force against his temples as the rest of his long fingers curled around the back of his head, palms resting firmly about his ears. Loki struggled; he tried to buck away, to pull himself from Eric's grasp with a frustrated grunt, to which the pale faced man replied with a chuckle, once more pulling his face towards his own with little force, watching as the muscles tensed in the other's jaw. Eric pulled his own body forward, touching his forehead with the cobalt blue of the other's.

Loki's slender muscles tensed as he could feel the intrusion of his own mind. He tried to struggle, but as though he was frozen solid in place, he could not. A pained scream writhed through his body, surprising even his own ears; a blinding white light behind his eyes as memories flashed by in fast forward, clogging and cluttering; tearing apart. He could feel the foreign tears as the pooled at the side of his clenched shut eyes, streaming cautiously against the marks that decorated his face. His fists tightened, nails digging in to palms enough to draw blood, warm as it pooled against his naturally cold skin. It was a pain like none he'd ever been exposed to, and yet an overwhelming relief all at the same time.

Eric purged the madness from his being like morphine from an addict's veins.

Wiping at the blood that had trickled lightly from his nostril, he fell back with a heavy sigh, watching the man before him. What was once an icy blue was now replaced with porcelain, a slight smirk playing on the otherwise emotionless and stilled figure, body hanging limp against the restraints that held him in place. He took in a deep breath, stilling his own rapidly beating heart.

He smirked, albeit with little conviction as the crow squawked thrice behind him.

It was time to leave.


End file.
